The Date
by Botticelli50
Summary: Harry invites Ruth out on a mystery date that proves more than a little eventful.


THE DATE

_This is definitely a one-off. So please review, as this is your one and only opportunity! Enjoy the romantic fluff. This is another offering of what should have been._

* * *

Harry sat on the edge of his desk and smiled across at Ruth.

"I'd like you to come out. On a date. Well only of course if you'd like to."

"Harry ……"

"No, hear me out. We know each other well. For years we've worked together daily in close proximity but always in the same environment. That dinner was great but not exactly an icebreaker. I'd like us to get to know each other outside of work. I'd like you to see me off duty when I'm hopefully more relaxed and better company."

Ruth smiled back at him

"You're always good company, even at your grumpiest Harry."

"Good. I'll take that as a yes then". He ploughed on regardless of Ruth's attempts at protestation

"What do you fancy? Opera? Cinema? Concert? Theatre? – I read there's a production of a Euripides in original Greek."

Ruth laughed, "I'd like to think my tastes are a little more catholic than that Harry. All right it sounds wonderful and I would be happy with anything. In fact I am interested to discover your cultural taste so I'll leave the choice to you."

"Fine. If it's not a problem with you I suggest tomorrow evening. Given the demands of the job, neither of us is in a position to plan social engagements too far ahead."

"Yes, tomorrow's fine but can we be discreet?"

"Of course. I'll pick you up at 6.00 from home, you'll have to finish early for once."

"Er no Harry, you don't have to pick me up, I can meet you."

"I will pick you up Ruth that's non-negotiable, don't be so stubborn."

Ruth left Harry's office in a whirl. One part of her was intrigued and excited at the prospect of a night out with Harry, the other dreaded being discovered by her colleagues and also worried that this would mark an escalation in their relationship that would lead into unchartered territory. What would happen at the end of the evening? Would he want to sleep with her? Would she have the resolve to refuse?

"Don't get carried away" she admonished herself "it's just a date not a proposal of marriage." Yet there was some part of her that acknowledged that it was both just a date and far more than that.

Ruth's agitation was increased further the next morning when Harry came to her station and informed her that she should dress smartly for the evening.

"How smartly?" she asked anxiously

"Oh nothing too extreme. Just, you know. Smart."

"Oh for goodness sake Harry, you're hopeless. If I turn up over or under dressed for this event then I'll hold you responsible."

Ruth pleaded a headache at 4 pm and headed home. 'Smart' was going to take a good deal of wardrobe searching and try-ons to achieve.

Harry stayed in his office, ostensibly wading his way through paperwork but in fact far too agitated to concentrate. Had he played too safe in his choice of event and venue? Was it really Ruth's cup of tea and if not would it prove possible to entice her on successive dates? At 5 pm Harry gave up and headed towards the pods.

"I'm off home via the Cabinet Office. If anyone wants me they'll have to ring my mobile." As he exited through the pods Jo turned to Malcolm

"Ruth's got a headache. Harry's got a pressing engagement. Both disappearing early, they're up to something. I bet they're on another date."

"After the fall-out from the last time, I'm not even going to comment. Besides which it is not inconceivable that Ruth has got a headache and Harry does have things to do elsewhere."

"I've been taught not to believe in coincidence and so have you Malcolm. If I didn't have to finish these op reports Id give my surveillance training some practice and prove my suspicions."

Harry arrived at Ruth's house at 5.55pm and rang the bell.

"Come in," yelled a voice from upstairs.

"It really isn't good tradecraft to leave your door on the latch" called up Harry. Ruth appeared at the top of the stairs

"I thought this was going to be a get-to-know-the- real- you date with no mention of work?"

"Yes. I'm sorry, but it's still bad practice and not sensible behaviour for any woman living alone never mind a spook."

Harry stopped lecturing and took in the sight of Ruth as she descended the stairs towards him. She was wearing a long red velvet skirt cut on the cross, which clung to her shape. On top was a corseted satin bustier of the same shade of red with an outer layer of back lace that was echoed in the elaborate black bead necklace and the black and red combs that held up her hair. Around her shoulders was a black mantilla lace shawl. Harry's eyes softened until they appeared like warm limpid pools of desire.

"Not smart but stunning" he murmured as he held out his hand to her and kissed her on the cheek.

"Well if it turns out to be an Iron Maiden gig I won't be best pleased," she replied smiling, but as her eyes swept over his immaculate evening suit she thought that was less that likely.

"Do we have time for an aperitif?" she enquired.

"I don't think so and also I'm driving, so I'd like to keep my units in reserve for later."

Ruth raised her eyebrows in surprise and gratitude. It was unusual for Harry to drive himself. He had obviously taken to heart her request for discretion, unless of course he was planning to extend the date into the early hours? No, she wasn't going to work herself up with useless speculation. As Adam always recommended: don't over plan, just let things crinkle out. When they walked down the path from Ruth's house she saw one of the familiar black Lexus cars parked outside.

"I thought we would use the MOD's car parking facilities as we're heading for Long Acre, so I hope you don't mind using the company run around for our date."

"Oh no, don't be silly, that's fine; but I could have taken the tube Harry. You live closer that I do anyway. This is out of your way."

"Ruth!"

"Alright, I'll be quiet, but I'm still right."

There was a selection of Nina Simone songs playing on the car audio.

"Yours?"

"Yes. Do you like jazz?"

"Um yes. Well some. I like traditional New Orleans jazz and I love Billie Holliday and Ella Fitzgerald in fact most things from their era and some modern players like Wynton Marsalis."

"Oh good, because I thought we might go to a little jazz bistro I know after the show for a bite to eat, unless you have a pressing need to get home?"

"Oh no, that would be lovely, if it's not too late for you Harry."

"You mean, should I be safely tucked up in bed with my horlicks and sanatogen pill by midnight? In case you haven't noticed Ruth I tend to keep late hours as a matter of habit."

Ruth blushed both at the suggestion that she was implying he was over the hill and also at the images that were coming to her mind of Harry in bed, naked and beckoning to her.

Harry negotiated through the crawling traffic of the West End with determination and dexterity. He seemed already far more relaxed than she was used to seeing him on the Grid. He was smiling and affable as he chatted about the advantages and perils of living in central London. Before she realised where they were, Harry was turning the car into a discreet entrance that led down to a secure underground car park. A uniformed security guard immediately appeared and opened the doors for Ruth and Harry.

"Good evening Mr Pearce, I trust you will have an enjoyable evening. Just ring when you are ready to return and I will have the car brought up."

"Thank you Charlie, I expect it will be sometime around 2.am."

Harry took Ruth's arm and guided her to the lift that took them up to street level. Ruth looked around at the familiar buildings.

"Wow, I didn't realise the MoD had a car park here."

"Ah something that has passed under the radar of the omniscient Ms Evershed. The MoD moles have burrowed all over central London. The Whitehall mandarins don't like getting their feet wet if they can help it."

Harry glanced at his watch.

"We do have time for that aperitif after all – shall we take it in the bar?"

Ruth looked up and saw they were standing across the road from the restrained grandeur of the main entrance to Covent Garden Royal Opera House.

"Oh Harry. How wonderful it's ages since I've been to an opera."

"I wasn't sure whether it was your thing but as the first of what I hope will be many similar dates I thought we'd enjoy something dramatic, so I've selected Turandot."

"Fantastic – it's the new production with that new Argentinean tenor Cora isn't it? How on earth did you manage to get tickets at such short notice, they're like gold dust?"

Ruth looked up into Harry's eyes that were sparkling with mischief.

"Oh! I see. Another hidden perk."

"Oh no, the only perk is the company I've got for the evening. The tickets are bone fide, although I will agree the source was a little unorthodox."

"Oh Harry, they must have been horrendously expensive, really you must ….."

"Ruth! – Do you want us to fall out before we've even stepped inside the auditorium? I'm old-fashioned enough to want to invite you out and not discuss money. You're in a position to know how much I earn, so please, no more discussion of bill sharing. I promise for our next date we'll share a Twix bar listening to the brass band in St James's Park and we'll go half's on a loaf of bread to feed the ducks but tonight is my treat."

"Alright" said Ruth laughing, "as long as it's clearly understood that I buy the Twix bar."

They were standing in one corner admiring the glass wonder of the new atrium when from behind a familiar voice greeted them:

"Well, well, this is rather out of the cultural comfort zone for 5 isn't it Harry? Oh and I see you've brought your lap dog. Oh good, my Shih tzu is very fond of Mozart, I'll have to bring her along next time."

Harry groaned and spun around.

"Jools, what an unpleasant surprise. I wouldn't have had you down as a Puccini man, not really a fascist enough composer for your taste."

"No true, but there's nothing like a good dose of oriental imperialism and a couple of executions to put me in a good mood for the week. What brings you here? The thwarted love story I suppose – little Liu stabbing herself to save her Prince – such a worrying scenario don't you think Miss Evershed? Or perhaps seeing a strong woman in control, but then I'd have thought you got enough of that Harry with Juliet?"

"Surprisingly Jools, I've come out to get away from work for a few hours, so if you'll excuse us?"

"Of course. I'll catch up with you on another occasion and we can compare notes on the experience of a female with the whip hand. I must say I have rather a fondness for it myself."

"That bloody man" muttered Harry as they walked away. "I'm sorry Ruth, I should have guessed that Covent Garden would inevitably attract the wheelers and dealers of 6 and as for his bloody rudeness …"

"Don't worry Harry. It's rather flattering being called a lapdog – they had a high status in the Chinese Royal Court and Charles II said his spaniels were more loyal and sweeter-tempered than his mistresses."

Harry smiled appreciatively at Ruth's attempt to deflect his annoyance with Jools Siviter and inclining his head towards hers he whispered

"And there's no one I would rather have curled up on my bed, if that's not taking the analogy too far."

Ruth blushes at such a suggestive remark and all that it promised for later that evening

Were masked by the flurry of movement that followed the sounding of the 5-minute warning bell.

Ruth was not surprised to find that Harry had secured prime front stall seats; positioned centrally and about 6 rows back to allow optimum views of the stage. She was soon engrossed in the spectacle and dramatic music of the opera and was transported by the visual and auditory intensity of the production. The stage was a spectacular swirling kaleidoscope of gold and red and her ears were assaulted by loud orchestral crescendos as the drums and cymbals crashed their way to the dramatic climax. After the final cathartic scene when the last resonant vibrations of sound had faded away and the cast taken repeated curtain calls, Ruth sat stunned by the experience; even Harry's hand stroking hers failed to rouse her from her reverie.

"Earth to Ruth, come in Ruth."

"Oh yes, sorry. It was mesmerising, so much more thrilling than I remember it from the last time I saw Turandot live. Thank you so much for bringing me Harry, I'd forgotten how truly uplifting the experience is."

The general stirring of their fellow operagoers encouraged them to gather their belongings and head for the exit.

Deep in conversation about the merits of the Argentinean tenor, they failed to notice a familiar tall thin figure overtake them, until a languorous voice drawled

"Enjoy yourselves. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"In that case" replied Harry acerbically "your shih tzu should be in for an interesting evening. Goodnight Jools."

Guiding Ruth through the melee, Harry made his way to one of the smaller exits and both were relieved to find themselves in the tranquillity and relative privacy of the cool night air. Ruth shivered as her body adjusted from the overheated jostle of the main foyer. Harry took off his overcoat and gallantly draped it over her shoulders, pulling her towards him as he did so, drawing her into a gentle but sensuous kiss.

"Harry! Someone will see".

"And? I'm single, you're single; we're not on duty. Stop worrying Ruth, just relax and enjoy the evening.

Ruth smiled and kissed him back.

"Alright, but remember you're the one who always warns that spies are never off-duty."

If either or both of them had given the advice more serious consideration they would have been sufficiently on their guard to notice a figure in the shadows on the opposite side of the road with a specialist night-time lens trained on them as they shared a lingering kiss before moving once more into the crowd.

"Time for something to eat I think."

"Oh yes please, my tummy was rumbling through the final act."

"Ah that's what it was, I thought that was just an overenthusiastic tympanum player!"

Ruth punched him lightly on the shoulder, but she was secretly entranced by the transformed, light-hearted Harry. He was right, there was a whole side to his personality that she had only momentarily glimpsed under the inscrutable, professional mask. Yes they know he was a man of integrity and moral backbone; obdurate to the point of being bloody-minded, quick-tempered and intolerant of fools with a sharp intelligence and caustic wit; but the softer side of his nature – kindness, generosity, a warm heart and a quick-witted humour, was buried deep beneath the self-preserving veneer of the ruthless, machiavellian Section Head. She was in danger of falling in love with him all over again, only this time without the constraint of concern over professional propriety.

Harry led her through side streets, skimming the edge of China Town, until he stopped outside a discreet doorway that led down into a basement. A sign above the door announced that they were entering the Charlie Parker Jazz Club. This was obviously not the first time that Harry had visited, as he was greeted like an old friend by the manager who guided them to a secluded table which had a direct view of a raised dais where a quintet of jazz musicians were in the midst of a complex and exuberant improvisation.

"What can I get you Harry your usual?"

"Do you eat pumpkin pie and clams Ruth? Ok, fine. Yes two please Joe and also a bourbon for me and a carafe of house red for my guest."

Ruth protested that he would have to carry her home if she drank an entire carafe of wine on her own, to which he replied with a definite twinkle in his eye that he looked forward to it and should he order two carafes just to make sure?

"Don't look so worried Ruth. If and when I seduce you I'd like you to be fully conscious."

The suggestive comment, delivered in a low seductive tone did nothing to calm Ruth's racing heart.

"I don't know, comatose victims tell no tales." She replied faintly as the word 'seduction' still seemed to hang tangibly in the air between them. Harry took her hand, raised it to his lips and gazing closely into her eyes said in an even but intense tone:

"Oh no Ruth, I want you fully alert and fully consenting. We've waited too long for that to be anything other than all consuming; but only when you feel ready and a hundred per cent committed. I'm not looking for a one night stand or something done in the heat of the moment and then later regretted."

The voice in Ruth's head shouted, "tell him how you feel. Let him know that you love him absolutely and completely and more than you've ever loved in your life and sex with him could never just be a meaningless shag" but she just smiled back at him in acknowledgement of the commitment that lay behind his declaration.

At that moment hot steaming bowls of food arrived and Ruth was rescued from the dilemma of longing to declare her feelings and yet fearing the consequences of losing control and allowing the success of the evening to pitch them into an acceleration of their relationship that they both wanted and yet would also possibly regret in the cold light of day.

The remainder of their date passed in an aura of sensation – the taste of full-bodied wine and good food, the sound of intoxicating rhythms and discordant harmonies, the feel of Harry's arms around her and the scent of his cologne as they danced to a succession of slow numbers, the assault on the eyes of dazzling spot lights and the sting of cigarette smoke, the shock of cool air and rain on the skin as they finally emerged at 1.30 am into the London streets. As they made their way back up the wet pavements of Long Acre Harry opened his overcoat and wrapped it around Ruth as he cuddled her to his body. True to his word, the attendant had Harry's car ready with its engine running as they reached the entrance to the car park and Ruth sank gratefully into its soft leather seat.

They sat in a slightly tense silence as Harry drove back to Ruth's house. What next? The inevitable question lay between them, tantalising, desired and feared in equal measure. Harry parked the car and turned off the engine. He stared ahead at the reflections of the streetlights on the windscreen.

"Ruth. You know how I feel about you and you can imagine, or perhaps you can't, just how much I want to make love with you, but I don't want to end our date like that. It just makes the whole evening seem like a sweetener for a night of sex and it wasn't. I genuinely want us to spend time together and get to know our non-professional selves better. Is this making any sense to you?"

"Yes perfectly. I feel the same way but um, also I don't want you to go. It's been a perfect evening; it's like a spell of enchantment that I don't want to break."

"Well, there's a conundrum. What do you suggest in a professional capacity as an analyst Miss Evershed?"

Ruth smiled and glanced obliquely at Harry under her eyelashes, which he registered in the corner of his eye but continued to gaze straight ahead.

"My conclusion is a compromise that encompasses both objectives." Ruth blushed scarlet at the boldness of what she was suggesting. "I, I suggest that you stay the night but we don't actually …. You know …."

"Ah, I see. Intimate, but not intimacy; proximity but not union. I'm not a saint Ruth but I'm willing to give it a go, purely in the name of compromise of course. So shall we go in before we attract the attention of the local plods?"

Ruth smiled tersely and almost fell out of the car as she caught her heel on the sill of the door. Harry who had moved around gallantly to assist her out of the car grabbed hold of her, his strong hands gripping her shoulders. A flustered Ruth mumbled her thanks as his amber-flecked hazel eyes gazed into hers.

"Thanks Harry. I told you a whole carafe was not a good idea."

"Ah, so it's the influence of alcohol rather than my animal magnetism that's upset your equilibrium?" Harry's soft sardonic tones were whispered into her ear as he leaned over her to close the car door. Ruth reached up and taking his face in her hands kissed him fully on the lips "Oh a little of both I think."

Click, click went the lens in the bushes across the road. Harry's eyes snapped open and swept the area but saw nothing in the gloom except the outline of a cat walking along a garden wall. He locked the car and steered Ruth towards the house, keeping his suspicions to himself. Ruth opened the door and led the way into her kitchen, kicking off the delicate stilettos, which had compressed her toes to the point that they were now throbbing and chaffed.

"Ah, that's more like it, I always feel more comfortable when you're looking up at me."

Ruth busied herself finding glasses and brought out a rare bottle of single malt originating from a small Spey side distillery, a purchase indulged in fancifully in the hope that one day she would entertain Harry in her house and here he was. The main question that preoccupied her thoughts was how the remainder of the night would pan out. Should she suggest he sleep in the spare room? – No too rejecting. Should they sleep in the same room but in different beds? Attractive but impractical as she didn't have a room with two separate beds. Should they sleep together in her bed? – wonderful but surely too tempting to full sex to keep them to her suggested compromise. Perhaps they should just snuggle down on the sofa together? A safe option but one in which neither would get a comfortable sleep and in six hours they had to be back at work, bright-eyed and bushy tailed. Once again Ruth resolved to take Adam's advice and leave things to take their course. It was Harry who actually took charge and cut across her mental agonising as he emptied his glass with appreciative relish.

"Well dear Ruth, I don't know about you, but I need some sleep or I won't survive the JIC tomorrow morning, let's go to bed."

Ruth took a deep breath. She wasn't going to panic or make a fool of herself, even though the invitation uttered in Harry's sultry, sexy voice made her feel light-headed. They were mature adults who loved and respected each other. It wasn't as if he was going to fling her on the bed and force himself on her – no she wasn't going to go down that avenue of thought – she'd had that fantasy too many times for it not to be dangerous. No they would go upstairs and whatever happened or didn't happen would be fine, more than fine, more than she had ever dreamed would be possible. She, Ruth Evershed, walking disaster zone for relationships, was about to climb into bed with the man of her waking and sleeping dreams, she didn't care what precisely would happen after that, she had loved him with passion and obsession for three years and now he was here telling her he loved her and about to put his arms around her and lay down with her in the privacy and intimacy of her own bedroom.

"Fine, yes. Good idea."

Ruth led the way upstairs as if it was an everyday occurrence for her boss and love of her life to spend the night sharing her bed. She opened the door to her bedroom and switched on the light.

"The ur, the bathroom is through there." Ruth's voice was faint and shaky.

Harry came up behind her, turned her around and lifted her face up towards him.

"This is me Ruth, don't be nervous. Nothing is going to happen to ruin our date. No demands, no expectations. Just you and I ok?"

Ruth nodded "I'll go in the bathroom and …."

"Fine. Right. I don't suppose you've anything big enough I could use to sleep in?"

Ruth looked at the breadth of Harry's torso and thought desperately " um, only a large T shirt I sleep in, but it's pink."

Harry snorted "if you don't object I'll pass on that Ruth and just sleep in my boxers."

He turned and familiarising himself with the layout of her room began to undress, laying his clothes carefully folded on a damask covered chair in the corner of the room. Ruth took one look at Harry unbuckling his trousers and grabbing her silk pyjamas fled into the bathroom.

The room was much as Harry would have imagined it. The walls were a blend of deep red paint and distinct wallpaper with a hand-blocked print of red flowers in the Arts & Crafts style of William Morris. Dark red Persian carpets were scattered on the floor and the double bed was of an ornate inlaid wood of far eastern origins. The bedcover was hand-embroidered silk brocade originating Harry guessed from Uzbekistan and dark red and gold Venetian cushions were scattered around the floor and several small-carved benches and chairs. The overall effect was opulent and yet delicate. The central light from an antique chandelier spread a soft glow over the surface of the bed and there were several additional Moroccan mosque lights hanging from the ceiling that reflected shards of amber, aubergine and green light through their glass onto the surrounding walls.

Ruth emerged from her bathroom to find that the main light had been turned off and the bed was lit by the subtle hues of the mosque lights. Harry lay half-covered by her duvet, his head resting back on plumped up pillows and his honey-coloured eyes that glowed like the embers of a fire in the soft light gazed at her simultaneously vulnerable and commanding.

"I take it that you sleep on the right side of the bed?" said Harry lifting up a small volume of Persian Love Poetry from the side table. Ruth blushed at being caught out reading love poetry, particularly as several in the collection had been underlined where particular passages had struck her as corolla ting with her own thoughts of Harry and she did not doubt that his grasp of Farsi was more than equal to translating them.

"Yes I, I found it helps me to sleep."

"Well to dream anyway," said the little voice inside her head.

She slid under the covers and immediately felt the warmth of Harry's body. There was almost a physical spark as his bare skin touched hers and she recoiled nervously.

"Come here and hold me" Harry's arms reached out and encircling her body drew her palpitating heart towards the object of its desire.

"Now kiss me and go to sleep."

"It's not fair on you Harry, it's …"

"Prick teasing? No it isn't Ruth. Yes I want to make love to you but that's not why I'm here. I love you. I want us to feel comfortable with each other – no more mixed signals and missed opportunities and that will be built on trust and familiarity, not a quick grope in the dark."

As she relaxed into his arms and surrendered to his soft wet kisses Ruth felt more secure and protected than she had thought possible. A life lived mostly in isolation melted away as she wrapped her arms around him and intertwined her legs with his.

When she woke the next morning Ruth could not instantly recall when she had fallen asleep, nor initially if it had been a particularly vivid dream or whether she had indeed slept with Harry – but the indentation on the pillow next to her and the smell of coffee that was percolating up the stairs confirmed that it was not a figment of her imagination and that he was still here in her house. Ruth was about to get up when Harry appeared in the doorway with two mugs of coffee, dressed only in his boxers and his evening dress shirt hanging loose and unbuttoned.

"Mmm I could get used to this."

"So could I" replied Harry in a sexy purry voice, putting the coffee mugs carefully down on the table and laying down on top of her. The weight of his body crushing hers and the intensity of his kisses as his tongue penetrated her mouth made Ruth wish that he was being a bit less considerate of her feelings and imagined him bringing her to orgasm and penetrating her there and then. She groaned faintly with desire and kissed him back with passion.

"Oh Harry I want you" she breathed.

He needed no further encouragement, his hands reached inside her clothes, massaging and exploring as he rolled her over into the centre of the bed. Their lovemaking was breathless, urgent, ecstatic and intoxicating. When they both lay eventually satiated, bathed in sweat and a little shell-shocked by the sudden turn of events, it was Harry who first broke the silence:

"I'm ….. " He got no further because Ruth's hand had reached up and stopped him

"Don't say you're sorry. I'm not sorry. I never wanted anything more in my life. I love you Harry Pearce and self-control and self-denial are very praiseworthy qualities but I'm very glad they failed you in this instance. Now unless you want to explain to the members of the JIC why you were late for the meeting, I suggest you go home and get changed and I will see you" Ruth kissed his cheeks, his nose and repeatedly his lips "in the office in an hour."

Harry groaned "I don't want to leave you and rolled on top of her renewing his assault on her senses – licking her damp skin and moving his fingers rhythmically inside her. As she climaxed moments later her cries were stifled by his crushing kiss and then renewed as she felt him slid inside her.

"Oh yes, yes, oh God Harry" Ruth desperately tried to gather her focus before another orgasm washed over her: "the time Harry, you've got to … oh god yes, I mean no, you've got to go or, or ….. mmmm … we'll be (deep moan) … late". She gave up, screamed his name and clung to him as though he were the last fragment of flotsam from a sinking ship as she felt him pulsating inside her.

As a consequence of their renewed love-making, Harry and Ruth had no time for the subterfuge of separate journeys to work. Ruth flung on her work clothes and they dashed cross to Harry's house where he showered and changed from evening to day wear in record time and within half an hour were hurrying through the pods onto the Grid. Ruth rushed towards her station and then stood transfixed, a look of horror spreading across her face. Standing in the middle of the Grid were three large display stands on which were pinned outsized red hearts that contained A2 photos. Each photo was a close-up shot of Harry and Ruth on their date the previous evening: the embrace outside the Royal Opera House, Ruth kissing Harry by her house and lastly a shot of them getting into the Lexus together with the time, 7.40 am imprinted in the corner.

Above each heart was a note:

Meeting of Suspects confirmed.

Suspects arrive at safe house.

Suspects leave scene of the crime.

Beneath each heart was the message:

We know.

We love you.

Stop pretending.

"I take it" said Harry dryly to the grinning group in front of him " that this was a joint surveillance operation?"

"Of course" said Adam "you always encourage us to work as a team."

"Without seeming unduly inquisitive, but how did you know about our date?"

"Oh that was the easy part" piped in Jo enthusiastically "Malcolm received a call from the MoD asking confirmation of which evening you needed the car parking space and we just took it from there."

"Oh I see, yes, very careless of me. Well then as you all seem so fascinated by my love life I'll make sure I give you advance warning in the future of any social engagements. I wouldn't want you catching pneumonia on one of your all-night stake-outs Mr Younis." Here Harry's eyes switched with a piercing glance at Zaf who looked puzzled and then frustrated "You saw me didn't you. Damn I knew it."

Ruth looked accusingly at him "Harry?"

He returned her look with a shrug of his shoulders and the ghost of a smile hovering at the corners of his mouth:

"I wasn't about to thwart our plans by making you aware of our peeping tom. I'm sorry. Anyway, enough of this frivolity. We have work to do. Zaf, Jo, Adam, Ruth, I want you all in the meeting room now, I need to be up to speed on the current state of Operation Song Thrush before I go and defend our honour with the JIC."

Harry strode across the Grid and into the meeting room just as if it was any other day at the office, but as Ruth followed the others with a smile she acknowledged that things would never be the same again. Their feelings for each other had been openly acknowledged both to themselves and to their colleagues. She didn't know what the future held but certainly denial and recititude were no longer an option and with the taste of Harry still on her lips and thoughts of him filling her mind she slipped through the doors and into the room beyond.


End file.
